Shackles of Slavery
by sevenfivetwo
Summary: Times of barbarism, depression, and grief have swept over Tellius. At times like these, people would do anything to make a living, even resorting to enslaving innocent people. Knowing slavery a cruel torture, Ike joined the abolitionist movement to free them. Rumor has it that new slaves arrived recently. Who could these pointy-eared slaves be? What does Ike do about this? R&R.


"Shackles of Slavery"  
By animefan752

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**Summary:** Times of barbarism, depression, and grief have swept over Tellius. At times like these, people would do anything to make a living, even resorting to enslaving innocent people. Knowing slavery a cruel torture, Ike joined the abolitionist movement to free them. Rumor has it that new slaves arrived recently. Who could these pointy-eared slaves be? What does Ike do about this? Read and find out!

**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me. _Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance_, _Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn_, and _The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess_ are the rightful property of Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, and company, respectively.

**Caution:** There isn't too much violence or gore in here, but there's certainly some implied cruelty and abuse. I'm also ringing the fearsome "_yaoi_" bells. I warn you now! I mean, the interactions aren't hideously homosexual or anything, this could just be _perceived_ as yaoi. As in — _it's yaoi only if you want it to be._

**Setting:** Let's just assume Ranulf and Muarim and Mordecai and all of the Laguz were considered "sub-human" slaves here. This was that one instance when hysteria swept the Beorc, making them think they were superior, that the Laguz were meant to be their slaves. There weren't many abolitionists that were equality-activists at the time, the ones who wanted freedom for everyone, — you know, like Zihark, — due to the popular opinion. There were a handful of these people, though. _But!_ Because this one-shot is within the earlier stages of slavery, there are only so many reforms and abolitionist movements.

**A/N:** I was inspired by my history class; my mind tends to wander often, after all. Well, my really enthusiastic teacher — he's literally the livelier version of Abraham Lincoln, with his black hair and towering height, dancing and singing and playing the harmonica on people's birthdays, — he's easily moved by really heinous acts. I mean, he's so emotional he sometimes spends the entire hour ranting about how "odious" people can be towards others, and how the smallest deeds can affect people around you.

Anyhow, I'm digressing. Basically some chapter ago, our book, as well as plenty of other references too, were really in depth. Their explanations revolving around the slave trade were very detailed and sometimes even explicit; it was almost disturbing to read for class. What I'm saying is that, after reading such accurate depictions of the ever-so-formidable slave trade, my twisted mind began applying certain characters into this warped history.

Don't judge me. You know I'm very, very, ridiculously _inappropriate_!

You see, I figured, since Tellius already experienced a period like this, having Laguz chained and whipped as slaves, they would treat people who were any different in the same way. I mean, technically, as it is in most historically accurate records, the majority of the people in the world did that at some point. They were sure that slavery was right and proper because they believed they were superior. They thought of their slaves as inferior, or "sub-human" even, because of their old, ancient, and corrupt ways of thinking in addition to their superstitions.

I hope this enlightens you, my beloved readers, as you plunge into the cruel depths of enslavement!

Enjoy!

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How he dreaded the plantations, the fields of long hours and blistering temperatures, everything about his current life was unreasonably painful and harsh. He was unaware of his own age, oblivious to his area, ignorant of his own unique birthday, purposefully unintelligent. Why, he knew as much as an idiotic mule! All he actually knew was how to obey his master, how to carry out his commands obediently and silently, with no questions asked, no oppositions, and no meager whimpers. To swallow his anxieties.

He didn't want to get whipped again.

As he leaned forward, his bulky build heaving and hefty, the sun blanketed him in this uncomfortably sodden heat. It was sweltering that humid day, but he couldn't do anything about that. It just showered last night, very briefly, so it was only natural for the moist wetness to linger in the air.

Oh, but if only the drizzling would come back in pouring heaps, his master would have him work inside instead. Forcing labor upon his slaves during a torrent of rain would cause illnesses among the Laguz, — who initially despised water, being catlike people with feline habits, — and ailment would become the result. Sick slaves were useless slaves, after all, as well as expensive. Oh, the blazing sun couldn't stifle him with its scorching heat if he was safely beneath a roof, shielded from the sun's feverish gaze.

"Where did the rain go?" He murmured under his breath. Oh, he just wanted to be relieved of his duties and stay inside all day, even if it displeased his master.

"Mordecai!"

It was Ranulf.

Compassionate, Ranulf was a very jovial and kind Laguz, who always wore a friendly smile on his face, and lifted up any forlorn spirits. He was a sympathetic companion to all slaves, comforting them when they felt desperately lonely and hopeless, approaching when no one else would, — occasionally even taking the blame for trivial faults, such as the shattering of their master's favorite porcelain plate. Mordecai liked him for all his help and support, how benevolent his personality was, how understanding Ranulf was towards him.

"Ranulf! Mordecai is happy to see you!" Mirthful, the burly Laguz turned from his arduous task harvesting the difficult crops, with that excited glint brightening in his eyes. He quickly wiped his clammy hand over his sweating forehead, the soggy perspiration clinging to his soft blue fur and his tattered clothes. "Are you not busy? Master will be upset if he finds out you are not working."

"No need to be concerned, Mordecai. It's nothing to worry about." Ranulf grinned as he patted him graciously, despite the vile stickiness of his body. "I'm actually here to inform you of some interesting details I overheard Master talk about earlier. Word has also spread through the others; I heard this from Lyre, but Kyza was speaking of it as well."

"Oh no, Ranulf. Mordecai does not think this is good. Master will not be pleased if he finds out you are misbehaving and listening again."

"No, he won't, Mordecai. I won't let him discover anything." His blue ears perking up, Ranulf's composed gaze was as patient as always. Mordecai felt his tense shoulders gradually loosen.

Well, the gentle giant trusted in Ranulf primarily because he knew the bright Laguz was much smarter than himself. Ranulf was more educated and was capable of comprehending a great deal of the puzzling Beorc language, including most of the big words that they often used. Mordecai's own vocabulary was very limited in comparison, and he was more oblivious than him too, so he felt obliged to listen to him. "Okay. Mordecai listens now."

Considerate of Mordecai's innocent naïveté, Ranulf smiled at him and quickly jumped into the subject matter at hand, his bright eyes illuminating with a spark. "They're hosting a grand slave auction at the borderline between Gallia and Crimea. I know it shouldn't be much of our concern, but — they say these slaves aren't Laguz!"

Mordecai's eyes widened. "That is a surprise! Who are they?"

"Well, the gossiping Beorc say that they are from a traveling caravan, meaning they aren't originally from Tellius. They have come from a very distant land, — across the water, even! No one knows their land, no one has ever even heard of it. I forget what they called it. Oh, but what they intended to be a peaceful migration here became so brutal."

"Oh, wow...land across the water, people from across the big water. Mordecai didn't know they existed." Astonished by this bizarre rumor, the hefty Laguz was speechless, lacking the sufficient words to express his thoughts and emotions as he repeatedly batted his clammy eyelids. Perspiration dotted his features with beads of damp sweat, soaking whatever little dryness remained of his clothes, because all of a sudden the blazing heat from the sun was now overwhelming. Although Mordecai, curious and childish, didn't mind too much, pondering over the brave foreigners' appearances, while Ranulf sighed coyly at his friend.

"Their ship landed somewhere in this frequent slave trading area, a famous harbor along the western borders of Crimea." Discerning the crude topic once again, Ranulf spoke with both interest and a stupefied empathy. Mordecai was immediately engaged, listening with his intent ears that eagerly twitched upon instinct. "It's just _ridiculous_, Mordecai, — people say they were even _abducted_ from their own ship!"

At that moment, Mordecai was shocked with the corruption of society. Feeling the abrupt churning of his vocal chords curl into sour growls, the broad Laguz struggled to control himself. Fortunately Ranulf was there to soothe and appease him, calming Mordecai's ill-tempered nerves. Still, though, it was too late to prevent their spurred thoughts. Oh, expect nothing less from the heartless Beorc race, kidnapping innocent people all for their own sick benefits, tearing them apart from their affectionately doting families and friends, disregarding their justified rights as equals. Those pitiful and perfectly civilized people probably loathed and despised the Beorc just as the Laguz did now; they were now similar in a twisted sense. Just as the Laguz suffered and endured torture for several eras, the recent victims now trailed after their miserable footsteps.

They received a fair share of attention — an unwelcome attention they were definitely not expecting. How unfair and inhuman the Beorc were towards any living being that was even remotely different from them! Were they that _dense_, that ignorant, and that pretentious, with their superiority complexes? Were they so deep in their bloated egos that they couldn't even grace another person with the slightest consideration? Why did they even have to be this way, cruel and absolutely merciless?

As this unsettling tension lingered in the air, a look of sympathy crossed their eyes. Somewhat remorseful and gloomy, Ranulf recalled something great from the rumors, those forsaken gossips that always spread like wildfire. He gazed up at his somber friend, feeling the fiery sun brush hotly against the nape of his neck, which was now sodden and warm. "I know, Mordecai. I do have good news, though. There's a cause out there, called the abolitionist movement, and they're the ones rising against slavery. They're an adamant and courageous people, and they're actually doing something for us. They want to free us, the slaves. As of now, they're being secretive about it, but it's cunning and smart. They will do something about this. The stripping of civil rights must have changed the mindsets of _some_ people. They will be successful, I know it."

"B-but, Ranulf, what if they are not successful soon enough? Won't you and Mordecai and everyone else still suffer then? Even if they do something, it is not enough to help everyone, is it? If these people want to help, they should make us all equal and free at once." Enveloped by a feeling of melancholic sadness, Mordecai pouted sorrowfully, a heavy weight in his kind, earnest chest. "Mordecai wants to be free. Mordecai wants to trust these people. But they have not done anything, have they?"

Honestly, Ranulf didn't know how to respond. That was something simply beyond his knowledge. It was a brilliant question, but difficult to answer. Why _didn't_ these brave, courageous, freedom-loving, slave-embracing abolitionists do something if they were against the idea? Why didn't they just be smart and clever, acting on instinct, relying on their intuitive compulsion, and liberating slaves no matter what it took them?

_Was it all lost?_

The busy streets and cramped harbors were teeming with life, filled with these commoners and wealthy merchants. The numerous people were accustomed to their strenuous lives, mingling, courting, or gathering potential customers. Each person wore their own shoddy attire, tainted due to the heavy city influence, wearing various faces. It was hardly inviting, how their expressions only welcomed those who would benefit them in some way. Why, even the air was undesirable, a smog of repugnant fragrances that consisted of the stifling perfume of women, the scent of freshly caught fish, the obscene smell of slaughtered game and meat, and always the vulgar odor of sweat and urine that trickled ominously along the roads of stones and pebbles.

Brimming with excitement, there was an energetic plaza somewhere within the congested city. People from all over Tellius were assembling in that area, selfishly ravenous and stingy and edgy for the awaited newcomers, — who were more like strangers, immigrants, victimized _travelers_, really. Who knew this malice and spite would greet them upon their studious arrival?

Still, there was no helping it. These were difficult times of harsh barbarism, depression, and grief. People would do anything; even now, this conspicuous lot of men were preparing for the slave auction to be exhibited publicly onstage. Flimsy and weak, the available platform quaked under their shuffling boots as they tried to make everything swell and presentable. One man in particular seemed to be the leader of the occupied party, when he demanded everyone's attention and was victorious.

It was awfully condensed there, heating up with restless cries and bustling with this constant activity. Narrowed eyes, swiveling heads, and conniving grins were scribbled on every face. There were literally men shoving and pushing one another, jostling each other from shoulder to shoulder, too eager to meet these supposedly exquisite slaves. What a joke! To think the smoldering heat would stop their uproar — ridiculous! Their obnoxious commotion even added to the severe temperatures, as they waited anxiously to feast their hungry eyes on these exotic new slaves, who would soon be trembling on the stage ahead of them.

"This is already disgusting."

"Quiet, Ike. You don't want to provoke such a boisterous crowd. They're really excited about this, so suck it up for now." His wise companion spat, the gravel beneath their leather boots scuffling loudly as the sea of rowdy people continued to bicker impatiently. The heavy air was thick with ignorance and heat, the crowd buzzing with an unquenchable excitement. "Who knows what they'll do to people like us, boy, believing in equality that no one else believes in. It's better to keep silent at times like this."

With that, the youthful and handsome mercenary bit his tongue as he angrily pulled the unkempt hood of his cloak further over his head. "Fine."

The announcer, or whatever he was, suddenly raised his arms, and drew them closer with the booming sound of his voice.

"Hello, hello, everyone! I know we all have somewhere to be, so I will be fast and now present to you, ladies and gentlemen, — not beastly Laguz, those filthy sub-humans, — but a new species! Nothing like you've seen before, something from a fantasy maybe, but only myths and folklore have mentioned these majestic creatures! Behold, I say, they are real fairies!" The boisterous and excited slave dealer boasted, his gestures too big and his grin too wide. With the superficial motion of his dirty hand, he frantically signaled his trusty accomplice to bring up the first "fairy" onto the stage.

Soon enough, with much struggling, the captives were yanked callously through the mass of people, who reluctantly parted to grant them access. Of course, even Ike couldn't resist the temptation to glance at these exclusive arrivals. Despite how impossible it was to simply crane his neck and peer over the thrilled crowd, the young mercenary made an attempt anyway. Briefly, he stole the slightest glimpse at this stubborn slave who wouldn't simply comply with their merciless jerking and towing. It was a young man, somewhere around his age, but a distant blur of saffron yellow. He was obviously upset, thrashing and flailing violently, and furiously knocking a man in the jaw.

It piqued his interest and was intriguing, to say the least, but once again the rude crowd suddenly jostled and blocked his only view, quickly leaving Ike dreadfully curious as to what happened to the poor guy. There were several desperate cries of protests muffled beneath the angry shouts of the surrounding men, causing the riotous uproar to kick up drastically. This pigheaded fussing fumed on — until there was one particularly piercing yelp, and then the commotion somewhat settled once again.

"They should bring luck to your harvests each year with their exotic sorcery! They understand a whole new language private amongst themselves, all for the useful purposes of their spellbinding enchantments!" The annoying dealer was foolishly ardent, delving deep into his own boisterous blathering that Ike could hardly comprehend the fast and jittery words prattling out of his mouth. The whole sea of people was stimulated, stirring and burning with expectations. "They can even make all of your efforts profitable because they're magical and gentle. You can see them now, can't you? Notice how their ears are specially pointed, like fairy tale characters from a book! They are mystical beings, these beautiful creatures! And unlike those winged sub-humans, these cannot fly to freedom! They don't have the tendency to shift forms at all, which means they cannot rebel as ferociously as the sub-humans with claws and fangs! Purchase them now — we only have a limited supply!"

Immediately after that, the audience's noisy clamor worsened. Suspense gulped down whatever little tolerance they had left. Drenched in sweat, the hefty air suddenly thickened with their hasty voices and sodden perspiration. Even Ike couldn't contain his keen eagerness any longer, shifting his weight from one antsy foot to the other. The rousing chatter of the obnoxious crowd was rubbing off on him, how his own blood coursed rapidly through his pulsating veins, and his racing heart beat miles in minutes, his bright eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Then — with the loud rattling of their shackles, the first slave was carelessly shoved onstage, plummeting gracelessly onto the wooden floorboards with a hollow thud. He was actually very small and thin, dressed only in tattered garb and helplessly trapped in chains, with indeed pointed ears and a blond head of gold. His vicious shackles, fastened tightly around his blistered wrists and ankles, left ugly bruises on the flesh beneath the metal clasps. Oh, he was just completely battered, with blemishes barely hidden under his clothes. Whatever attempts those ferocious men put into concealing his harmed skin didn't work. This man, this guy — _wait_.

It was _him_ — the same young man who stubbornly butted heads with the many countless men when he refused to do as they demanded of him.

Speaking of which, that particular yelp must have come from his quivering lips. That must have been their method of cruelly silencing this rebellious captive, some relentless assault upon a part of his slender body. There was absolutely no mistaking it. It couldn't have been anyone else. Where did those heartless bastards hurt him this time?

"We begin the bidding at fifty grand!" That aggravating man jabbered on as he bitterly hauled the poor young man onto his feet. As the dealer spoke nonstop, the pitiful slave stumbled and faltered unsteadily. Miserable and weakened, the brooding slave on display kept his blond head lowered, those fine strands of gold silk sweeping over his concealed face. No one could even discern his full appearance. "Usually we only accept gold, but if you have anything valuable to offer, consult with us and we might possibly consider it! Horses, jewelry, even other slaves! If so, we'll gladly take three sub-humans in exchange!"

"Show us his face!" One man burst out in anxiousness, elbowing the buzzing crowd that agreed and further urged on the baffled seller.

"Yes, show us!"

"Yeah!"

Realizing how the anguished youth refused to reveal his face, the infuriated slave dealer seized his captive, fiercely thrusting his hand into that blond hair and ruthlessly yanking his golden head backward in order to expose his cherry-red expression. In response, the defiant slave growled and hissed, grappling at the torturous cuffs that chained him, but to no avail.

A wave of astonishment bewildered the pressing mass of people. Ike was appalled — why, everyone was rather surprised — even speechless. For this one fleeting moment, they all firmly captured the slave's face. It was an appealing visage in general, perhaps just attractive in every way, how the shaping contours of his face formed delicately in this certain manner. Oh, he was blessed by the great Goddess Ashera herself to have such a beautiful face, appearing gorgeously soft. Like a wingless and less graceful heron, he was naturally pink in the cheeks, with gentle lips and hair as smooth and golden as those elegantly refined Laguz.

"Gaze upon this face, everyone! It is both beautiful and handsome. Not only that, but he is also intelligent, clever, and strong. Don't let his small size fool you, because he is indeed capable of any feat necessary! In fact, he handles most tasks with ease! Not only that, but he's already had experience with farming! He was raised in a small village of farmers, learning from an even younger age. He also gets along well with any animal. He is a most valuable asset to have!"

In an instant, everyone scrambled and lurched forward, bickering and offering all types of precious valuables. _It was absolutely insane!_ Quarrel after quarrel, the disputes were simply endless as the price gradually skyrocketed from the initial fifty grand. Swarmed by these overwhelmingly great possibilities, the slave dealer grinned hideously to himself as he further prompted higher offers and raised the cost. With this heated debate further escalating, oh, he was flooded with the rich luxuries of lavish money. How delighted he was, believing this was a brilliant ploy — profitable and certainly worth the disgusting trickery!

Oh, Ike could just read him like a book! It was perhaps one of the most revolting deeds he'd ever heard — one of the most rotten men he'd ever laid his eyes on! What sick and corrupt ways of thinking would compel someone to such dastardly acts? It was preposterous to own another living being, to resort to comparison and put numeric value upon someone's head, as if they were simply property, objects rightfully owned through the process of exchange. Money — this unearthed gold mined directly from the soil — was considered to be the same as a breathing man, woman, or child. It was foul, malevolent, and just horribly wrong!

Angrily grinding his teeth, Ike fisted his rough hands until his fingers dug into his own palms. From left and right patrons were oblivious and ignorant as they all flocked to _him_, that damn slave dealer, who was thoroughly pleased with such positive results. Oh, how the youthful mercenary boiled with wrathful fury, this renewed sense of rage — oh, why were these people so fervent? What was there to be so anxious and avid and _breathless_ about? They should be questioning themselves, how absurd this all really was! Craving, thirsting, yearning for a distasteful auction like this — it was _despicable_!

Why, that poor young man must not even understand what could possibly be happening if he spoke another language altogether, the native tongue of his homeland. Oh, his dear _homeland_ — his distant friends and family must be confused, ruffled, and overwrought with concern for his prolonged absence, without any contact. How terrorized and violated he must feel!

His gaze shifted towards the despairing slave, who was fatigued and woeful. He was motionless, staring wistfully into the distance — wait. That particular expression captivated Ike, though, that pleading stare. With the gentle flutter of those lengthy eyelashes, those pools of aquamarine were imploring, begging, beckoning to someone. No, they landed on _him_, Ike! They just had to be! Where else would they be looking so pensively, so thoughtfully, so _desperately_? It was as if the devastated youth knew who Ike was — an abolitionist, a liberator, an equality-activist who saw a necessary justice in freeing slaves from their cruel fates. As those eyelashes repeatedly kissed the tender surface of his cheeks, which were powdered with scarlet red, those cerulean eyes glistened with this meager hope, kindling a dim flame. Did he believe in such a tiny sliver of hope and faith?

Remorseful, the young mercenary felt his heartstrings tug painfully in each direction. At once, the lively commotion and gluttonous activity around him then blurred into silence as the wistful youth held his steady gaze, those gorgeous blue eyes vivid, alluring, and mesmerizing. Oh, everything seemed to slow down significantly, Ike's frenzied concern swallowing him whole, as they locked eyes. He could feel his insides churn and his heart suddenly propel itself forward out of nowhere, while his constricted lungs shriveled up and suppressed his bated breaths.

_Equality._

It was a simple word, just a single word, but meant and stood for something immense, grand, and enormously _important_. It was also a recurring issue among the people, a problem that never failed to stir up these offensive arguments and trifling brawls. Well, it was definitely safe to say that there was a lot going on — all the time. No one could truly understand the significance of such a crude topic, but, regardless, Ike felt compelled to do absolutely anything to help this young blond. It was as if he suddenly knew everything, how to solve these perplexing questions and complications that troubled all of Tellius — _to free them_. They just had to learn how to cope with society's differences. What did it matter, really? Why was that so confusing and difficult to just comprehend?

Just looking at this youth, his beautiful eyes that were as bright and cerulean and _free_ as the sky was, as deep and aquamarine and _understanding_ as the ocean, was unmistakably enlightening. His blue gaze already spoke much louder than words, louder than the boisterous noise around him, screaming, shouting, calling for assistance — _for freedom._

_Help me, Ike._

His heart immediately skipped. And then he whispered quietly beneath his breath, tightening his clenched fists, his eyes sparking with a resolved determination. "I'll do it. I will. I'll save you."

And he really would.

This enslavement must end, and Ike was going to make that absolutely certain. He would free and salvage these abused people from their gruesome shackles of slavery, and he would surely redeem them — starting with this one.

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_The End?_

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**Side Notes:**

**- **Umm, I don't plan on continuing this. Its original intention was to be a quick one-shot simply because the idea itself was fast and easy. I figured I didn't want to exert too much effort into a long-winded fanfic. Besides, I'd probably screw it all up and execute my ideas poorly, which would result in some pathetic version of the original idea. Besides, I want my beloved readers to decide what happens next. It's open-ended, you see?

**- **I am aware I never officially mentioned Link's name. That's because no one really knows who he is here. It's implied that it's him. Actually, it should be considered foreshadowing for whatever happens later. I mean, you're supposed to imagine what happens next. That's the idea.

**- **Ike's companion could have been anyone. It could have very well been his father, or Gatrie, you know. It's just whoever fits the role best; he only had one purpose, which was to shush Ike — although, another implication from the concluding text is that Ike disregards the heedful warning in order to rescue Link from the auction bidding. But, meh, you guys decide that.

**-**_ Reviews?_ I'd love to hear your opinions! I have no intention to request too much of you, my beloved readers, but allow me to overcome my mistakes with your constructive criticism, supporting me with your kindest words of advice and assistance.


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